


Untitled

by Caeslin



Category: Hachimitsu to Clover | Honey and Clover
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-20
Updated: 2010-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-28 17:44:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeslin/pseuds/Caeslin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She knew this happened sometimes -- not to her -- but it had to, she knew, because if you always had ideas you could drown in them." Hagu gets artist's block.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "something Hanamoto-ish," for [Canis M](http://archiveofourown.org/users/canis_m/), for a fic meme on LJ.

She had woken up that morning, slipped quietly out of bed, fed the cats and turned on the space heater in the living room before she realized something strange was happening. At first it seemed like the air was quiet, like it had been damped down with cotton; but then the heater began to grumble and it was no longer quiet, and she still felt the same. Something pressed heavy over her. She shivered through her quilted coat. Outside through the window it was white.

When she had made herself tea and set it down on the low table by her easel; and when she had fitted that easel with one of the new canvasses; and when she had opened her paints and sat down, that was when she realized. There were no pictures inside her head. No ideas.

She closed her eyes, frowned. Her mind was empty; she could see out and it was like she couldn't see at all. She knew this happened sometimes -- not to her -- but it had to, she knew, because if you always had ideas you could drown in them. And her friends sometimes spent whole days at Shuu-chan's office when they had work to do, and Ayu would invite her over to cook for hours during exam days, and even Shuu-chan took weekends off.

But a day off was a choice. She didn't like to take breaks (because her mind would always whisper at her, _what if, what if_ \-- because anything could happen tomorrow). She didn't need to take breaks; she never had.

She looked hard at the canvas again, but it didn't help anything. There was a charcoal smudge in the corner from when she'd moved the frame after doing gesture drawings last weekend. It was barely there, like a shadow, as small as a lima bean. She tried to see into the frame but that spot kept pulling her back to the surface.

One of the cats walked over and began to weave between her legs, mewling; she told herself she would get up when she had started to paint something. It could be anything, anything would be fine (she remembered Shuu-chan telling Takemoto one of the long office nights: build the foundation before you start to adjust; you can change everything later, but first you need something to stand on). Her hand stayed clenched around her brush. _Anything_ was as bad as _nothing_ ; there was no place to begin.

Eventually the cat went back into the kitchen. Maybe he wanted to go outside. He shouldn't go out; it was too cold.

Then she heard heavier footsteps, human footsteps, come into the room.

"Morning." A yawn. "Hagu?"

She bit her lip.

"Shuu-chan," she said.

He was by her side now. He leaned over her shoulder; in the corner of her eye she saw him pick up her untouched cup of tea.

"I can't draw anything," she said, quietly.

She felt his elbow bump against her back as he straightened back up.

After a silence, he said, "Why don't we take a break." She looked back at him. His face was still unshaven and his hair was mussed from sleeping; he was smiling faintly. "I'll make you some more tea," he said. "We can have breakfast. Are you hungry?"

She didn't feel hungry, but nodded anyway; she wanted something warm. And she hadn't eaten since getting up.

"What would you like?"

She paused.

"I can make toast," she said, finally. "Cinnamon toast?"

"Sure," said Shuu-chan. "That sounds great." He put a hand on her shoulder, and she flushed a little, but hopped down from the stool.


End file.
